


CRANBERRY

by kitcassiachan



Series: seen: a haikyuu collection [10]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Miya Atsumu, Canon Compliant, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, Hinata Shouyou is a Good Boyfriend, Hinata Shouyou is a Little Shit, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Time Skip, Praise Kink, The Duality, Top Hinata Shouyou, and a bunch of other kinks atsumu doesn’t even know he has, and crack, recovering-heterosexual miya atsumu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26263135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitcassiachan/pseuds/kitcassiachan
Summary: As far as first times go, Atsumu can and will complain.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Series: seen: a haikyuu collection [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711519
Comments: 106
Kudos: 725





	CRANBERRY

**Author's Note:**

> this has been in the works for months and I could never figure out how to end it or what was missing, but I am happy with it now and glad it’s here. ATSUHINA SMUT HERE WE GO!
> 
> this is a sequel to CREAM (part 5) but they both work as standalone smut pieces. all you need to know is that CREAM is Atsumu’s sexuality crisis so he is a New Gay.

**CRANBERRY**

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

Hinata looks up at him with wide, teary eyes, mouth full of Atsumu’s dick, his cute nose nestled deep in Atsumu’s pubes. He slides off, lips brushing every vein along the way, and holds Atsumu in one hand, as he talks.

“Oh my bad.”

“What?”

“I must be doing a bad job,” Hinata huffs, “If you have time to be _thinking_.”

He has a point. This position, spread eagle on Hinata’s bed in nothing but socks and knee-pads (because Hinata likes to imagine he’s taking him on the court in front of everyone) doesn’t lend itself to much soul-searching.

And yet, Atsumu’s thinking. He’s thinking of how Hinata pleasures him every day without fail and most days, Atsumu returns the favor, awkward but learning. Some days, when Hinata’s being particularly mean, he won’t get the chance. Hinata will pin his wrists above his head and make him watch helplessly, not allowed to cum, as Hinata _uses him_ , rubs his dick all over Atsumu’s abs until Atsumu’s desperate and covered in spent. You could say they’ve grown close. They’ve been _intimate_. Atsumu’s thinking, it might be time.

“We should,” he starts only to have Hinata cut his thoughts short, tongue swirling around the tip. Atsumu swallows, wordlessly. Maybe it’s not worth pissing the brat out of him today. He hasn’t cum in four days, and needs this so bad. Maybe this is another day’s undercover mission.

“We should what?” Hinata prompts. His tongue dips low, lower, until it gently tugs one of Atsumu’s balls inside his mouth. “What should we do, Tsumu-chan?” he purrs.

“Oh, umm,” Atsumu pants, fingers curling in Hinata’s hair. Hinata suckles harder; it hurts. “Maybe we should... can you?”

“Stop?” Hinata frowns. “You alright, baby?”

“No, I’m good,” Atsumu reassures him. “Give me a break so I can talk, you little shit.”

“Oh,” Hinata smiles. “Then no.”

He dips down, swallowing the length of Atsumu’s dick in one move like a pro. He does get a ton of practice, so much practice. Atsumu lifts his hips off the bed to slam into his throat, feeling it convulse around his dick, begging for breath. Hinata accepts it, lets him fuck the spit out of his mouth long enough to get Atsumu really riled up and close, before shoving Atsumu’s body back against the mattress, and wiping the drool off his chin with the back of his hand.

“What were you saying, sweetheart?” his voice is hoarse and teasing.

It’s revenge, for the first few times they ‘hooked up’ when they did nothing but jerk each other off and Hinata would sob before he was allowed to cum, the good old days.

Now that they’re somewhat established and Atsumu’s somewhat addicted to having Hinata touch him all over and call him _his_ _pretty boy_ , things have shifted. Hinata’s the one toying with him. He’s is the one making Atsumu hard in the least opportune moments. Atsumu’s the dumbass with shaking hands and his jacket over his lap, hiding how badly he needs ten—hell, he’ll take five, or three, or one—Hinata has made him cum in less—minutes with Hinata alone before the game starts.

“Talk,” Hinata orders.

“Maybe you should,” Atsumu fumbles with his words. Is this ceiling made of brick? Cement? Plaster? Really fascinating stuff, how people build ceilings and the materials they might use to make them, how do ceilings work anyway? 

“Should what?”

“You know.”

“I’m gonna need a few more clues than that,” Hinata laughs.

Atsumu groans. “Ok, fine, you should be the one to.”

“Toooooo?” Hinata drags out. Atsumu drops his eyes to Hinata’s crotch. “To... pleasure you?” Hinata guesses, and he seems tickled by the whole charade.

“With your dick,” Atsumu blurts, “Do it with your dick.”

Hinata’s eyes go wide. Atsumu doesn’t miss his pupils dilating black before he catches himself. “With my dick,” he repeats.

“With your dick,” Atsumu settles it.

**part ii. with his dick**

“Are you sure that thing fits?” Atsumu asks when it’s clear that they’re doing this, and he’s suddenly scared—but not _scared_ scared because he’s a man, but scared- _ish_ because Hinata’s _also_ a man, and Atsumu has never done it with one of those before.

“You mean dicks in assholes?” Hinata looks amused.

“Don’t act smart,” Atsumu snaps. “Your dick. In specific.”

“I think you can take it,” Hinata smirks, leaning over his body to kiss up Atsumu’s neck where he last ‘marked’ him. “You’ll take it, won’t you?” Atsumu gulps and nods because if Hinata says he will, then he fucking will, that’s just how it goes. Hinata has a way of making him do anything with just a simple look. He feels Hinata’s laugh against his ear. Shudders, when Hinata taunts, “You’ve done way harder things for me, big boy.”

“You’ll like it too, no?” What a stupid question. Does he not own a dick that has slid into tight crevices? Is he incapable of extrapolating from that data that an asshole, being tighter, would feel infinitely better?

“I’ll love it,” Hinata promises, “But you’ll love it more. I’ll make sure of it.”

Atsumu inhales sharply through his nose because no, he won’t moan. It’s too early for that.

Hinata sits back on his heels and reaches for the bedside table, pulling out a bottle of lube, strawberry-flavored, like Atsumu’s future asshole. As he rummages for the rest, Atsumu eyes the bulge in his underwear, straining to come out. It’s bigger than any shit Atsumu has ever taken. This is gonna hurt.

“Stop worrying,” Hinata reads his mind. Atsumu drags his eyes up and pales at the thing in Hinata’s hands, a bumpy, rainbow dildo of something that doesn’t look homosapien. “I’ve had this baby up my ass and I’m still jumping ten feet in the air. If you do it right, it fits.”

Atsumu gulps, his brain fantasizing without his permission of Hinata, knees spread, cock hard and bouncing, as he fucks himself up and down that thing.

“Well, that’s depressing,” he mumbles, though his own cock aches with the idea. Hinata would make him watch as he groaned and writhed and begged for Atsumu’s dick without letting him use it because he’s not good enough yet.

“What do you mean?”

“If you use that, my sad cock’s probably nothing for ya,” he mopes, wrapping his fingers around the base of his dick and squinting one eye for comparison. He’s not nearly as thick and that’s usually his saving grace since he’s not big enough either. His dick wilts at the realization.

“Stop it,” Hinata smacks his hand away, replacing it with his own. He slides his fingers up Atsumu’s shaft slowly, jerking him back to full size. “Your ‘sad cock’ is gorgeous,” he smirks, and it sounds better when he says it. “I wanna fuck your pathetic, little dick so bad.” WOAH, what, no, not _little!_

Hinata must notice his panic because he laughs. “I’m teasing. Still figuring you out,” he says. “You’re big, almost as thick as my throat.” He winks.

Ahh, praise, the emotional whiplash. Atsumu would do anything for it. Spread his knees and watch as Hinata squeezes lube on his fingers. Keep them spread, as Hinata looks down at him, at his asshole, which he hasn’t shaved, or trimmed, or ever looked at in the mirror. Did he wash his ass last time he showered? Or did it wash itself with the water running down his butt-cheeks? Keep them spread, when Hinata presses a teasing finger against his hole, dark eyes coming up to find Atsumu chewing on his lower lip.

“Relax for me,” he guides, circling his thumb around the ring in a way that almost tickles.

“Imsofuckingrelaxed,” Atsumu grits through his teeth.

Hinata smiles gently, none of his previous sass. He’s the soft Hinata, who waits for him after tough losses, and hugs him as he rants about how bad he played. The Hinata who lets Atsumu tuck his face in his soft tummy on sad days without telling him to suck it up like every other guy in his life has.

“Relax, pretty boy, I got you.” His other hand comes up to rest on Atsumu’s stomach, trailing fingers up and down his core. “You know I got you. This part won’t hurt. The second it does, we stop. You know how good I am with stopping,” he grins.

“F—fuck,” Atsumu exhales, letting his head fall on the pillow. “Fine, ok, get it over with—am I clean?”

“You’re hot. The hottest man in the world,” Hinata reassures him. A bit of an inside joke (how obsessed Atsumu is with hearing Hinata be openly obsessed with him). The team says it’s the most disgusting thing about them. Clearly, they’ve never his fucked ass or they might change their mind.

“You never jack off to anyone else?” Atsumu asks.

“Never.” Hinata completes him. “Never ever. Only you.”

“Ok, fine, do it.”

Hinata nods. Atsumu takes a deep breath that’s forced out of his lungs when Hinata pushes inside, sticking his finger past the ring. He has done this before, teased him while blowing him, but now he’s deeper, one knuckle, two, three?!

“Wait,” Atsumu croaks, shaking. He’s not a little bitch but, “Wait, give me time.”

Hinata doesn’t pull out but he slides his other hand down towards Atsumu’s cock and wraps his fingers underneath the head, rolling Atsumu’s dick in his palm at the same time as he drags the middle finger out to barely an inch before sinking it back in. Something sparks, and Atsumu all but flinches off the bed.

“Wait—shit, cumming, sorry,” he whimpers as warning.

“Shhh,” Hinata hushes him, slowing down the hand that’s on his dick and letting him breathe through the delicious trembles rolling through his limbs with every finger fuck. “You’re doing good, baby.”

The crashing wave subsides. He grabs at the pillow behind his head, squeezing it in his fists to stop himself from touching his dick and taking what he wants. “Don’t make me cum before you’re in there.”

Hinata kisses up his leg, nosing under his knee. “I won’t. You’re close though.”

What gave it away?! Atsumu all but screams. His body’s lobster red. His dick, his poor, sad dick, so wet and full, could probably knock someone out with how freaking hard it is. Hinata lowers his lips around the head, and adds a second finger, squeezing it next to the first. Atsumu hisses, twitching away.

“Fuck my mouth,” Hinata urges, lifting his hips up. “Focus on my mouth, baby.”

Then those stupidly small fingers reach some place deep in him and Atsumu feels his whole body spasm. He’s sure this time, he’s emptying in Hinata’s throat, growls with the blinding intensity of the pleasure—hot, hot white. Hinata holds him in his mouth until he stops bucking before pulling off. And nothing. “Still good?”

“Too good,” Atsumu blurts. “It’s. It’s weird.”

“Your prostate,” Hinata says. This time removing his hand and mouth completely so his dick is left untouched, the only thing moving the two fingers in his ass scissoring him, pushing and curling, and—

“ _Fuck_ —what the fuck?!” Atsumu gasps, thighs twitching involuntarily.

The knot in his belly keeps expanding towards something that’s good but unlike every other orgasm mainly centered on his dick. This thing is everywhere, from his toes to his titties, he has turned into a massive, literal human-cock. Anything Hinata touches prickles. He wants to cum from his fucking brain. He can’t even keep his tongue in—is hentai, factually accurate?

“Betcha didn’t know that was in there,” Hinata teases, shoving his fingers in.

Atsumu jumps and so does his dick, flopping against his stomach, straining like it might explode. He has seen this once—when he made Hinata cockwarm him with his mouth for the whole length of a movie and by the end of it, the kid had been so slobbery and hard that he couldn’t piss or cum for hours no matter what Atsumu tried, perpetually horny and oh-so-fucking-sensitive, _his nipples...!_

“Hurts?” Hinata asks, letting up.

“No,” Atsumu swallows. “No, but it’s...”

He squirms his body to make Hinata’s finger hit that spot again. Hinata indulges him easily. Atsumu jolts. Fuck, that’s addicting. Pain so good it’s bad, which is good, he wants it bad. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Hinata pumps his fingers in and out of him in a steady rhythm now. The action a familiar one Atsumu has done to many women. Slow on the insert, then deep, then twist. Like them, he moans and takes it, writhing as much as the bed will allow. He mimics what the girls usually do receiving, pulling his knees up to his chest to expose more of himself for Hinata to work with.

Hinata licks his lips at the sight. Atsumu imagines he looks like such a whore and doesn’t know what to do with the thought. As if sensing his doubt, Hinata whispers, “You’re so sexy, baby.”

“Yeah? You like me like this?”

“I love you.” He moves his other hand behind Atsumu’s thigh to help his legs stay against his chest. “I’m adding a third, okay? Tell me if it’s too much.”

“I can take it,” Atsumu breathes out, shocking himself with how bad he wants to please him and how good it feels doing it.

Hinata smiles at him, kind of proud, kind of feral. “Yes, baby.”

The third finger stings. Atsumu readjusts as best he can with Hinata pinning him down, leaving bruises on the back of his legs. He’s squeezing like his life depends on it, like if he lets up even a second, he’ll lose all control. Atsumu thinks he sees him drool. One day soon he’ll have to see for himself what this is all about.

When Hinata moves all three fingers simultaneously, it feels bad. He whines, wanting to pull away. Hinata chases, gives him no time to pussy out.

“He-ey,” Atsumu whispers to grab those eyes again.

Hinata looks up, instantly, and knows, instantly. “So good, baby. You’re taking it better than anyone I’ve seen.” That’s a lie, probably, maybe not. Atsumu preens; he’s Hinata’s best.

“Wish I could do this to you all the time,” Hinata says.

“We’re—” Atsumu swallows to steady himself. Hinata starts moving, foggying up his brain. “We’re dating so you technically—” he squeaks, “Can.”

He lifts his head from the pillow to catch a glimpse of the fingers, disappearing inside him, shiny with lube. Something about being owned this way by someone other people consider innocent, not knowing what a horny cunt he actually is, makes him want to see what else he can make Hinata do if he provokes him bad enough.

“You’re bigger,” he blurts. “Your dick is big, it’ll reach better, more.”

“I think that’s the point,” Hinata smirks, slamming against his... protestant? Atsumu howls, wants it again just like that. Hinata gives it to him, but better, going as far as he can reach; it’s not enough.

“Make it the point then,” Atsumu snarls.

“Not yet,” Hinata says. “We still need you to play tomorrow.” Atsumu pouts. “I’m doing this for you, don’t give me that. You think I don’t wanna fuck your stupid brains out?”

“Fuck yes. Fuck my stupid brains out, fuck me so good with your dick.”

“Hush,” Hinata stops him. “You’re asking for it.”

“Literally,” Atsumu groans, grinning. “I am literally asking for it.”

Hinata growls. Atsumu trembles with the sound, wants his ass fucked by that sound, wants that sound to eat his bum and make him its bitch. And then Hinata does something that Atsumu had never considered.

He _slaps_ Atsumu’s ass.

Not enough to hurt, just enough to burn, and jostle something out of him that Atsumu didn’t think was in there, a moan so small and helpless. They look at each other, mutually stunned.

“Did... did you just slap me?” Atsumu speaks up first.

“Did you just moan for it?” Hinata shoots back.

“No?” Atsumu swallows sheepishly, “I—I was in shock.”

Hinata’s cracking up. Atsumu tries to kick at him, which proves difficult in this position. Hinata doubles over in laughter, putting his weight on Atsumu’s thighs and snapping him in half before Atsumu can tell him this isn’t cirque du sakusa, and he doesn’t bend that way. His fingers slip out and he clutches his stomach.

“You called me,” Hinata says between heaves, “You called me daddy, didn’t you?”

Come to me, my lost child, god says, and Atsumu feels his spirit leave his physical body to join god up in heaven. For he is dead.

“I,” he tries, mortified.

Hinata settles down from his giggling, and looks sweet again, what a monster.

“I didn’t know what to say, ok?!” Atsumu snaps. “I can’t call you baby if you’re calling me baby, and what’s the opposite of baby?”

“Daddy,” Hinata says automatically, “Baby, daddy, no, no, you’re right.” And he’s not joking. He legitimately agrees that babies need daddies. Doesn’t make Atsumu want to die any less. Hinata grins at him like a bastard. “I’ll be your daddy,” he says with a semi-straight face, semi-meaning it, the little bitch.

“I hate you,” Atsumu grumbles, “I hate you so much. Stop shaming me. I was actually enjoying it for a second there, fuck you.”

Hinata opens his mouth, knowing him, to point out that is what he’s _trying_ to do. “Shut up.” Atsumu stops him. “Just shut up. Either do it or don’t, fuck off.”

Hinata caresses his thigh and looks at him seriously. “I’d never shame you, hey.” He frowns. “I want to know what you like so I can give you everything you want. I’d never judge you.”

“You’re such a liar—”

Hinata slaps him again, showing off his new hobby.

Atsumu glares. “You’re on a power trip,” he grumbles, looking away, even as heat rises in his cheeks, and his dick is probably slobbering all over his belly, cause ok, it’s hot. He can see now why Hinata insists on being such a problem.

“No,” Hinata whines, “No, no, no.” He crawls on top of Atsumu to lay on his chest but no way, no sir, Atsumu won’t look at him. That’s what they want you to do.

“You have all the power here,” Hinata says, cupping his face and turning it towards him. “You can make me do anything. I’m sorry, I thought you might like it like that.”

He plays with Atsumu’s hair, which he knows it’s his weakness, he’s such a shit, Atsumu’s so gone for him. “Don’t think for a second, you can’t make me beg to touch your perfect body,” Hinata reminds him. “I’m whipped for you.”

“I’m whipped for _you_ ,” Atsumu corrects, “You’re younger than me and I called you daddy.”

“Hey, daddy isn’t about age. It’s about confidence.” He shrugs. “I have daddy energy.”

“Shut up,” Atsumu snaps, locking his eyes on Hinata’s. “Beg.”

“What?”

“Beg to touch my body,” Atsumu repeats, loving how fast he can take Hinata from this high to high school runt, who chased after Atsumu his third year at Nationals to stutter: “Can you set for me sometime, Miya-san? Please, I’ll be good for you.”

He didn’t know back then _how good_ and _what kind,_ though only fools underestimate how horny Hinata was even before Brazil took what was left of his shame. The kid version of him said ‘good for you’ and probably meant it in a ‘cum on my batting eyelashes’ kind of way. They will never know; Atsumu never took him up on it.

“Tsum?” Hinata whines. The Hinata, who clung to Atsumu’s hand after they parked that beach day, who whispered, “Don’t tell me this is one of those things we do just once and never talk about again.”

“Come on then,” Atsumu urges.

Hinata smiles uncertainly, wetting his lips. “You—you’ll break the fantasy, Tsum.”

“Beg—” he doesn’t need to finish before Hinata whimpers, “Please, ok?” Still bratty.

Atsumu hums, raising an eyebrow.

It breaks what’s left of Hinata’s facade. “Please, please, please, please, please.” He rubs his face on Atsumu’s groin. “Please let me fuck you, baby. I’ll be good.”

And Atsumu would have all the power in the world if his dick hadn’t decided that moment to twitch against Hinata’s cheek. Hinata glances up and down a few times, a smirk finding his lips again. Oh god. 

**part iii. actually with this dick**

“Ouch, relax, relax, stop shutting up your asshole,” Hinata grunts above him.

“Huh??” Atsumu yells back. “How?!”

He can’t exactly... open it? It feels... unnatural. Like something should be coming out of there, not going in, like taking a shit in reverse, time-travel but backwards and you’re sitting on a toilet after a particularly broke week of eating nothing but rice and no fiber.

Atsumu’s brain screams: “Noooooo! This is a one-way street! You can’t go that way!” He tries his hardest to push past it by focusing on anything else: his boyfriend, his boyfriend’s sexy abs, how they flex with every barely-restrained push, his boyfriend’s fists clenching the sheets about to rip them so he doesn’t rip what’s left of Atsumu to shreds, his boyfriend’s sweat dripping down his tanned, delicious body.

“Ah fuck,” Hinata mutters, stopping an inch in—Atsumu can’t see but he can estimate from the pain.

That first push, breaking through, cuts his confidence in half. No way it fits—it kills already, there’s nothing nice about it—and the more he stresses, the tighter he clenches around something that’s way too hard to give. His lower back aches with the intrusion. He doesn’t wanna cry but can see how people would.

Hinata inhales and exhales through his nose, gathering the strength to push a little deeper.

“What’s wrong?” Atsumu asks, afraid the pain will show in his voice and Hinata will make them stop, say he’s not ready or some stupid shit. If they stop now, Atsumu isn’t sure he ever will be.

“Nothing,” Hinata sounds choked up. “You’re tight, babe,” he wobbles, sniffling. Is _he_ gonna cry now?! Fuck, gay sex is so sad.

Yeah, it’s a fucking asshole, Atsumu wants to snap, it has to keep shit in there. Your daddy long-dick is gonna make me crap my guts out in practice, and then they’ll for sure know you own me. You’re so hot.

“We didn’t prep right,” Hinata voices. “Shit, ok.”

“What—why, what’d you mean?”

Hinata has one eye shut when he responds. “Took too long playing.” Ah. “Sucked you off too long.” Ohh. “Your fucking ass.” Mmm. “I’m gonna cum if I don’t pace myself. You okay?”

He traces his fingers on Atsumu’s body, combing through his chest hair before pinching one of his nipples. Atsumu relaxes with his touch and the pain subsides to the back. Hinata has him. Atsumu goes where he guides and ends up places he never dreamed he could reach. Hinata loves him so much.

“All good?” Hinata prods again, cupping his jaw this time to focus Atsumu’s eyes on his own. Atsumu nods. “Yeah? I’ll push in now, ok?”

“Ok, love.”

Hinata gives him a smile before sheathing himself further. It stings — he panics — no way! — latches onto Hinata’s hand, squeezing it — “Touch me, Sho, talk to me, baby, please,” he bursts.

Hinata’s a mess, panting, sweating, shaking. “You’re so sexy, Tsum,” he manages, “You’re amazing—this is what you do to me, I’m gonna cum, embarrass myself, again, and I’m so in love with you, I don’t even care, I love you.”

Atsumu nods feverishly, wants to hear more. Hinata can’t say I love you enough times for him to believe it. With his voice to focus on, everything is easier. Hinata drops on top of him, hands on either side of Atsumu’s face, as he closes the gap between their bodies.

“I love you,” he whispers against Atsumu’s mouth. “You have no idea how difficult it is to hold back when you look at me like this. You look so pretty like this,” he babbles nonsensically. Good to know he can’t shut up as a bottom and a top. “God, I’m gonna fuck you every single day of my life, ok, Tsumu? I’m gonna fuck you all the fucking time. You’re all mine now.”

Atsumu keeps nodding.“Yeah, I know, I am,” he breathes, barely a whisper. Hinata can read him. He knows how “mine” Atsumu is, how stuck he gets on things he loves — it takes him seconds to know he’ll love something forever. This is forever and that terrifies him. “If you want me.”

“I want you” Hinata snarls, kissing him.

Atsumu kisses back, yanking his face closer. Hinata breaks away to mutter more stuff, and breathe, he always forgets breathing. Spit still connects them. Sweat pools on Hinata’s forehead, dripping down. It’s hot everywhere, their bodies burning.

“You’re all the way?” Atsumu asks.

“Mhmm. You feel me, baby?”

Hinata kisses underneath his chin, rocking into him ever so slightly, a roll of the hips, just enough for Atsumu to became hyper-aware of where he ends and Hinata begins, Hinata’s tight balls brushing against the crook of his ass, his bony hipbones digging into Atsumu’s inner thighs. Atsumu tightens and Hinata mewls, bites his neck in retaliation. Atsumu shudders underneath him. It’s all one continuous wave of reactions.

Hinata brushes his lips against the shell of his ear. “You feel how well you take me?” He snaps his hips forward.

“Fuck. I don’t know—I don’t know.” He doesn’t know _what_ to feel, what he _is_ feeling. Hinata’s everywhere, all around, on top, inside, splitting him in half, while holding him down, and kissing him brainless.

“You’re hurting?”

Atsumu shakes his head. He circles his arms around Hinata’s neck to pull him down into a hug. “Try?”

“Give it a second.”

“For me or for you?” Atsumu snorts.

Hinata slams his hips froward in punishment. Unfortunately for him, the move presses against Atsumu the way he dreamed off since he discovered it five minutes ago. Atsumu arches into him, groaning. “Ok yeah, that’s nice, fuck me—” the rest of his sentence muffled by Hinata’s hand on his mouth, strangling the breath out of him. And oof, if that doesn’t make his dick twitch, stuck between their sweaty bodies — holy shit!

When his eyeballs return to the front, Hinata frowns at him. “Don’t sound so hot, please.”

He shoves one of Atsumu’s thighs towards Atsumu’s chest and grips it for leverage, before melting down. “Your thighs,” he whines, “Everything. You’re so hot, Tsumu, I can’t do this with you being so stupidly hot.”

“Sho,” Atsumu laughs, “Are you gonna survive this?”

Atsumu’s smart-ass remark is lost in the next thrust. Hinata pulls out all the way and slams against him hard enough to scoot the bed across the floor and into the wall, the scratching sound harmonizing nicely with Atsumu’s moan and whatever strangled thing came out of Hinata’s chest. The neighbors—MSBY Outside Hitter, Sakusa Kiyoomi—definitely know what they’re up to if they didn’t before.

The first few thrusts hurt. Atsumu bites on his bottom lip and waits, breathing through it. Hinata adjusts his angle every time he misses with the same determination that mists his eyes when they’re practicing and he demands Atsumu set to him again and again until he gets it absolutely perfect.

Atsumu’s body slides across the bed, head against the headboard. He raises his hands to support himself on it, fingers clawing the top, as Hinata shoves his knees to his chest and pounds into him harder.

“Hold tight,” Hinata warns, thrusting his hips forward.

They meet in the middle with loud slaps that should be embarrassing if Atsumu wasn’t singularly chasing that one bright star, flashing in his vision every time Hinata shoves his dick in there, knocking half his organs out of place. It’s basically assault. Hinata is assaulting his ass and Atsumu’s letting him because he hasn’t felt anything like this in his whole, entire life. It’s like scrambling for survival in a post-apocalyptic world where every breath is an orgasm.

“More,” he grunts, “Hard as you can.”

Hinata thrusts him up the headboard, every move more aggressive than the last. Atsumu’s shoulders, then back, crush against wall. Hinata crowds him, holding his thighs up with strength Atsumu did not know the short bastard possessed. In this position, gravity does half the work slamming his body down. Hinata’s biceps strain to undo it.

“Harder,” Atsumu chokes out, greedy for more. He wraps his legs around Hinata’s waist, yanking him closer.

“Oh yea?” Hinata taunts.

“Yeah, fuck me,” Atsumu pants against him.

“You love saying that, don’t you?”

“Fuck you then,” Atsumu huffs childishly.

To his horror, Hinata pulls out and stays out. Atsumu clenches around air, panicking. Never thought he’d miss dick in his ass. “No, Sho, sorry—” He’s dropped on the bed again, falling in a slump. “I was joking.”

Hinata rolls his eyes, looping his arms under Atsumu’s knees and dragging him forward and on his lap, back slamming on the mattress. “Flip over. Let’s break you in properly.”

It’s scary, it’s hot. What’s scary is Atsumu thinking it’s hot. He’s a masochist now? Always have been, Osamu would say—why is Osamu here? He _is_ a masochist!

Atsumu gulps and uses his hands to move so he’s face down on the pillow. He’s barely up on his knees, on all fours, when Hinata puts his fingers in his ass, spreading him with thumbs on either side. “Think you’re good now. I won’t feel as bad making you cry.”

Atsumu hides his whimper underneath a rough, “Shut up, you wish.”

The lube is cold. Hinata works it in with two fingers, teasing him, letting Atsumu control the pace, rolling back against his hand. He could cum just like this, Hinata’s fingers on his ass, his own on his dick, rocking himself back and forth.

Hinata slaps his hand away.

“Just a little,” Atsumu pleads, fisting his cock knowing he has to be fast if he wants more than one, two—Hinata slaps his ass this time. It shocks him into slowing down.

“You’re shaking already.” He is, his thighs are quivering. He’s leaking all over the covers. “You’re gonna cum. It’ll be harder for you if you do.”

The implication here being, Hinata will continue to fuck him no matter what he does, and what does that feel like, he wonders? Being fucked after he’s cum — he wants to cum — he needs to cum — another smack — hard enough to startle a miserable noise out of him. “Ok, sure, fuck, ok,” he mumbles, “Asshole.”

He turns his head to ask, “Sure you’re tall enough for this?”

He’s genuinely curious, doesn’t mean it as a taunt. Ok, means it as a taunt, but fuck, he’s so cranky, he doesn’t edge. Hinata knows he’s bad at it, that he gets so mean so quickly and can’t hold off nearly long enough to make it worth the effort. He’s a now-now-now kind of person.

Hinata rewards his insolence by grabbing at his balls, tight and painful, squeezing hard, so hard. Atsumu moans into the pillow, chuckling. “I can go lower for you, little one?” his voice breaks half-way through. “Can you reach, baby boy?”

Hinata doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead presses the tip of his dick next to his asshole. “Careful with your neck,” he says casually.

“Huh?” is all Atsumu has time to ask before he has the breath punched out of him, as Hinata slams inside, full tilt.

Atsumu’s face smashes against the headboard. He almost breaks his neck— _ahh!_ And also, _mmmohmygod_ , because in this new angle, ass in the air, every thrust Hinata pounds into him makes him want to let go. He hangs his head, watching mesmerized as Hinata fucks the cum out of him drip by fucking drip, which Atsumu didn’t know was possible. It clings to the tip of his dick, stretching towards the bed. One extended, never ending orgasm that has no peak or end in sight. “C—cumming, babe,” he whimpers.

“No, you’re not,” Hinata snarls, fucking him through whatever’s going on. His dick spurts weakly, dangling between his legs, rock hard, cherry red. There’s _more_?

Atsumu braces his face on his forearms, taking it. Doesn’t realize he’s muffling himself—bite marks on his forearm—until Hinata threads his fingers through his hair and yanks his head out, not stopping his hips.

“Don’t pass out on me, I’m not done yet,” he bullies, pulling Atsumu close enough to kiss. They mouth spit off each other. More slobbering, and panting, and biting than anything truly romantic.

Atsumu can’t keep his eyes open, gasps into his mouth, “Not gonna call you daddy.”

“Kinda sounds like you want to,” Hinata chuckles.

Atsumu shakes his head, keeping his back arched despite the way his abs tense and curl as he gets closer, closer?!

“Good?” Hinata asks, easing the hold on his hair to caress it. Atsumu nods wantonly. “Really good?” Hinata teases. Atsumu flushes, nodding once more. “Really, really good?”

“You shit,” Atsumu snaps, squeezing his ass and listening to the pathetic sound Hinata makes in response, telling him Atsumu’s not the only teetering. Atsumu can’t resist: “Think I can make you cry like this, Shouyou? Doing jack shit?”

“What was that?” Hinata taunts, shoving his head back in the pillow and snapping his hips extra deep for extra effect. Atsumu wants to moan. He wants to breathe, wants his hips down so he can rub against the bed because his dick hurts without release. But Hinata has him trapped, one hand on his hair, the other on his hipbone.

His dick throbs. “Cum—” Atsumu hiccups, “Cum, let me cum, make me cum—help me cum.”

“Woah there! Easy. You’re gonna break the word,” Hinata mocks, speeding up. Atsumu sobs in frustration. “You can make me,” Hinata mumbles against his shoulder, kissing towards his spine. “If you need me to so bad.”

“Please,” Atsumu tries, knowing it won’t be enough, not after all this. “Please, I can’t cry on a whim, please.”

“Maybe you’re not close enough,” Hinata says simply.

Atsumu rolls his eyes, or tries to, but they get stuck somewhere in the back of his skull because Hinata’s hand grazes his leaking cock and having both is fiery bliss. He lets out a muffled whine. If the fingers were ready to unravel him, Hinata abusing his ass-clit, while his hand has a learned ease on his dick, the exact right pacing, the exact right pressure, his coarse thumb poking into his sensitive slit, already milked once.

Atsumu lets his chest collapse on the bed, resigned to his fate. The real orgasm takes what’s left of his consciousness. He feels it in fragments. Cum shooting up his chest, on his chin, his own, he assumes. The inside of his cheek bleeding into his mouth with how hard he’s biting it. His body aching and cramping, Hinata shoving him into the bed with his weight, as he chases his own release, the beautiful sounds his baby makes when he gets there, slamming into Atsumu one final time, hips stuttering until they lock. His arms hold Atsumu tightly to his chest and Hinata sniffles against his neck, coming down.

“We... we have to set rules if we’re gonna do that again,” Hinata heaves, laughing hoarsely.

Atsumu can’t imagine using his voice or what it might sound like after that. He was sure he was screaming towards the end—Hinata’s name, likely. Other mortifying shit, probably. Things Sakusa will never let him live down, almost certainly.

“Why’d I think you’d be soft and sweet for our first time?” Hinata asks himself, rolling over on his back next to Atsumu’s useless body, now one with the bed, possibly forever.

“You,” Atsumu mumbles into the pillow, “You. Unsoft. Mean little bitch boy.”

“I know,” Hinata admits. He pulls Atsumu’s body towards him, getting nowhere. Atsumu’s dead weight. “Let me,” he pleads, yanking his arm.

Atsumu shuffles so he’s on top of his chest. Hinata cradles him, carding through his hair. “It’s necessary, you know? Doing this after.”

“Cuddling?” Atsumu asks, relishing in the touches, close to falling asleep. He’s exhausted, so sated.

Hinata kisses the top of his head. “Mhm. You knowing how much I love you. After I’ve been a ‘mean little bitch boy’,” Hinata quotes. Atsumu can hear the amusement in his tone.

“Tell me then,” Atsumu sighs, snuggling into him. “How much you love me.”

**Author's Note:**

> and again, I feel the need to apologize to whoever was emotionally scarred by this (me certainly the most). I am sorry this fic is everything but the kitchen sink in terms of tone but hey, they love each other and they love being assholes AND THEY TELL BAD JOKES. And I don’t know how to write smut without making poop jokes, so who wins here? no one.
> 
> all comments and kudos light a fire under my ass to write more stories. thank you so much for reading!
> 
> i’m on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kitcassia/status/1301395831518449664?s=21) talking shit, probably.


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